


Querida

by siba



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Ymir, F/F, Siba, Writer Krista
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siba/pseuds/siba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Querida<br/>Spanish (n)- lover, Dear, Sweetheart</p>
            </blockquote>





	Querida

Every day, I kept telling myself to put one foot in front of the other, and maybe that would take you where you wanted to go in life. If you just kept going one step at a time, thinking out every step and only moving when you knew it was safe. That’s how my father taught me all those years ago, when I was a little girl in the Reiss family mansion, trying to hobble around through the hallways on my tiny little legs. When he wasn’t working, it was always the same dull encouragement ‘One step at a time Chrissy’ that somehow gave me the ability to stand on my own and continue stumbling down the hallway towards some unknown goal.   
As I got older, that goal kept getting further away. Some days, it was so far away that no one could see it in the distance. It was so far gone that even I forgot it existed for a while. Of course that occurred around my freshman year in college, just as I was about to embark on the first step to reaching that goal, one that I had clung onto ever since I was a little girl. The goal of being happy.   
My first steps, as all first steps, were a little shaky and I fell down a few times in the first few months of my new life away from the cold comfort of my house. But eventually I became friends with a nice group of people; Eren, Armin, Mikasa and even Jean who would all help me out and introduce me to more of their friends. Before I knew it, I was an honorary member of this friend group, someone who was included and invited to nearly everything. Including an art exhibit, one that Eren had won tickets to and no one else was able to go, or even really wanted to go.   
In the beginning, I didn’t know what to think of the art exhibit. There were so many things I had never considered to be beautiful, just sprawled about in the gallery with large blue walls and bright white lights that illuminated everything so that it seemed like every piece had it’s very own glow. The pieces along the walls were from all over the world, people of different countries, in different languages, reflecting different cultures and backgrounds that I found to be eye-opening and more interesting than many other things I had previously seen. But my eye was caught by one painting, one that stood in the corner of the art exhibit; hidden away from the rest, but still just as beautiful, if not more so than any other that I had seen thus far.   
Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the painting, looking at it with large blue eyes and tucking away strands of long blonde hair that fell before my eyes, obstructing the view of the two painted bodies, seemingly embracing on dark canvas. The care and the love that went into it was apparent by every stroke that made up the curves of their imperfect, yet perfect bodies. Imperfect in the manner that they were not the standards of beauty set forth by society by far, but perfect in their imperfections and how they fit together so beautifully. It was watching two puzzle pieces come together in a beautiful union, something that I didn’t realize I envied until that moment.   
Despite being in the corner of the exhibition, the painting itself had attracted a lot of attention. People began to rush over in hoards, thus pushing my small body back towards the back of the crowd and creating a wider gap between myself and the beautiful painting as more and more people began to realize how beautiful it was. I would have walked away, if it not for the fact that I bumped directly into the muscular shoulder of someone in a dark grey suit jacket, but the crowd surrounding me didn’t exactly give me the luxury of looking up at their face. That is until I felt a grip around my wrist, tugging me out of the flow of people and more towards the center of the room. It gave me a moment to collect myself and look up at the person who had saved me from the tidal wave of people-  
Her hair was a rich, chestnut-brown color that glimmered every-which-way she looked. It seemed to fall below her shoulders, but was tamed back by a hair-tie that kept it neatly in the back of her head in a low ponytail. The skin stretching over her rather rigid cheekbones was tanned in color, with a few freckles dotting her cheeks and seemingly being lost in the forest of her dark, luscious hair. Those eyes, that gazed down at me with as much of curiosity as I gazed up at her, were light for their color and rather entrancing for having just met. But most of all, what I was taken in by, was the combination of it all.   
The remainder of the night, I was by her side; taking in all I could about the beautiful woman I came to learn painted my favorite piece, the one of the two puzzle piece-individuals in love. One thing lead to another and at the end of the night I was giving her my cell phone number so that I would be able to write an article for the school newspaper on the exhibition, and more specifically on her. Rather, I hid it by saying that she was the only artist I could find to interview for the article. For a week, she was to be my muse. As time passed, and we grew closer and closer, it seemed that she was my muse for much longer than a week; much unlike I had originally planned. But I didn’t object, nor did she.   
It wasn’t until I couldn’t stand the welling of warmth in my chest and my fluttering heart at the mere mention of her name that I finally broke my silence and told her of my feelings. These odd emotions had been welling in my chest for weeks, since that first day in which she saved me from the rushing crowds and unknowingly brought me miles closer to my seemingly unattainable goal.  
To see her react to such news was nerve wracking. We were sitting in the lounge of my apartment, me with my fists clenching at my oversized shirt thanks to anxiety and my eyes cast at the white carpet below our feet. I didn’t expect someone like Ymir to return the sentiment, not when it was someone like me who liked her. I was confused, lost in my own thoughts half of the time and so deep in self-deprecation that I was sure I could never see myself in a positive light.   
“-I feel the same”  
That was enough to have knocked me off of my feet if I were standing. But it was quickly followed up by a second blow, “Let’s try it out.”  
So we did. It wasn’t until she was in my life that I realized that I was part of her painting, that she and I, in our imperfections, were a perfect fit.   
It wasn’t until many late nights, stolen kisses and comforting cuddles, that I realized she was my missing puzzle piece


End file.
